


silence

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Gen, Microfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte





	silence

In the cradle of her creation, she waits for silence as her kingdom ceases to exist. The islets of life in the Netherworld return to nothingness around her throne. Wisps of hair and limbs drift from her silvery figure, thrashing almost in physical pain when a Zone is purified. One of her dewy hands keeps a firm grip on a cup of tea as if the object so small compared to her form helps her breathe.

The destruction does not start with silence - only ends with it. At first there are the sounds of carnage and coughing, and one by one the lights of existence go out. Her whispers sound out to the fallen Guardians, her companions, but no tender sound can reach them in death. Thumping steps of haunting Secretaries replace the noise of the dead lands.

Hours pass and so do her friends. Even before the time of waiting, she could not admit to herself that the lovingly crafted Zones had ever given away to fear and exploitation; she is and was busy with grieving and at the same time preparing for a celebration of life. After all, Dedan never raised his voice at her. Enoch never sat by as she labored. Japhet never shrieked his contempt and paranoia at her. It is and was ironic, in a terrible way that only someone like the Judge could understand when the cat's nine lives are up.

Yet the burning weight of knowing, not recognizing, sat in her cold chest and scorched its way through her body. No matter how much she has thrown herself into organizing the birthday party, the ignoring became an infected wound. The red flesh became a prominent failure, a searing death sentence on the disparate, makeshift kingdom. A self-declared antibiotic took up the task of purifying the injury.

His footsteps are so soft on the stairs. Silence is coming.


End file.
